


A Little Matter of Life and Death

by Unfeathered



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-31
Updated: 2008-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfeathered/pseuds/Unfeathered
Summary: LA, 1952: Jack helps Angel fight off some demons. Angel gets hurt and Jack heals him, in more ways than one.
Relationships: Angel (BtVS)/Jack Harkness
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Little Matter of Life and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://unfeathered.livejournal.com/85918.html) on 31 March 2008. Beta'd by [jadesfire](https://jadesfire.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Spoilers - Angel: pre- _Are You Now Or Have You Ever Been?_ /Torchwood: pre-series

Angel's on his way back to the Hyperion – above ground, because it's dark out – when he gets jumped by some scaly, purple demons with a lot of annoying spikes. He doesn't know what they are; doesn't care. He dispatches two of them without a hitch, but the other two prove more tricky. He finds himself with his back against a wall, his blows being parried with frightening speed.

Then there's someone else in the fight, and he's only fighting one demon, which he can manage. He punches and jabs, and has time to notice that the newcomer is tall and dark, and wears a long dark coat that swirls about him as he kicks and spins. Angel sniffs. A bit pretentious, that coat. He hasn't worn a long coat since… early this century, when they were actually in fashion.

Still, there's nothing wrong with the new guy's fighting. He quickly dispatches the demon, whereupon Angel's demon shrieks and runs off.

Angel's about to turn and leave, because he's really not interested in people these days and he doesn't feel the need for a post-fight chat, but the other guy is walking towards him with a smile, holding out his hand. "Captain Jack Harkness."

Old lessons in manners die hard. He comes away from the wall, accepts the hand and shakes it perfunctorily. "Angel."

Dark eyebrows quirk upwards and blue eyes dance at him. "Unusual name."

"'S short for Angelus."

He half-expects some recognition of the name, because maybe the guy's a demon-hunter, but there's nothing. Just more twinkling. The hands are in trouser pockets now, the eyes looking him up and down, considering. "You don't look Italian."

"Not Italian. Irish. Originally."

"Ah." This gets a nod, and another long look. A flicker of interest igniting, Angel uses the pause to examine Captain Jack in return.

The Captain is not only tall and dark, but handsome. Almost too handsome. And oh, does he know it. There's a devilish glint in the blue eyes, but he's not a demon.

Next moment, pain explodes in Angel's shoulder. He stares at Captain Jack Harkness for a moment, mouth open in disbelief; then looks down at the spike sticking out the front of his shoulder. Looks up again and sees Captain Jack staring over that same shoulder at the demon behind him. It obviously hadn't run as far as they thought.

Jack plunges past him while he's still standing there in shock, and kills the demon by efficiently twisting off its head. Angel feels the spear break as the demon slumps to the ground and does his best not to cry out with the pain, but a whimper escapes nonetheless. He grinds his teeth and takes hold of the spike to pull it out.

"Allow me." A hand slides his own gently down the spike and off, and he feels a slight wrench inside as the end of the barb sticking out behind him is gripped instead. "Easier for me to do it," Jack says coolly. A second hand is placed firmly between his shoulder blades for leverage, and then Jack's _pushing_ it through, before reaching round to pull the rest of it out. Angel gasps as tremors of pain shockwave out from his shoulder. The hand remains on his back, supporting and comforting, as Jack moves round beside him and peers at his face.

For once, Angel doesn't shake off the contact. He feels strange. Muzzy. Dizzy. Weak.

"Hey. Are you all right?" Captain Jack has moved round in front of him and is frowning. He's also doing a weird pulsing dark and light thing. Angel frowns too, realising: it's not the Captain who's doing the dark and light thing, it's him. He's – oh God, he's not going to faint, is he? In the arms of a handsome stranger?

He pulls himself together, puts a hand to Jack's chest to push him away. "'M fine." The push gives him greater momentum than he expected and he finds himself staggering backwards. The handsome Captain dives forwards and grabs his arm, bringing him up short.

"Must've been some kind of poison on that barb thingy," Jack says, staring down at the skewer still in his hand.

Angel doesn't care. He's just trying not to faint.

Jack looks at him again. "Okay, we need to get you inside somewhere, take a look at that wound. You got a place nearby? I'd offer my own but I'm just passing through."

Angel nods. "Hyperion Hotel," he says, faintly.

"Right." Jack ducks in under his arm and hefts it round his shoulders. "Let's get you back there."

* * *

Jack doesn't pay much attention to the hotel room as he drags Angel inside. Angel's still conscious, just – conscious enough to be able to direct him to the hotel, into the elevator, and along to his room, but not conscious enough to be able to do more than stagger weakly and lean very heavily on Jack. And Angel's not exactly light. By the time Jack gets them inside, he's tired, sweaty and panting with exertion.

He dumps Angel on the rumpled bed, then kneels to unlace Angel's boots and remove them. He drags the heavy leather jacket off Angel's arms, though he can't be bothered to tug it out from under him. Angel stirs and mutters, but doesn't give him any more than that.

Jack hauls off Angel's short-sleeved shirt and the white t-shirt underneath, both torn and bloody from the spear. He gets a cloth from the bathroom and gently washes the wound in Angel's chest, then heaves him up onto his side to clean the entry wound in his back. Beyond that, there's not a lot he can do.

Wandering over to the coffee-table, he studies the broken-off spear he brought back with him. There's a black tar-like substance on its tip which he's very careful not to touch. Unfortunately, he has no way of finding out what it is or what it's doing to Angel. Apart from, obviously, poisoning him. Jack has no clue how to combat its effects, though he's willing to try his little party-trick if need be.

While he's waiting, he casts a curious look round. The décor of the whole hotel is dated and not the sort of place he'd expect to find a young, trendy-looking guy like Angel. There's also no sign of how long Angel has been here. A few clothes tossed untidily over a chair. A pile of newspapers on top of a cabinet. No personal items at all.

It's a an intriguingly familiar sight.

The lack of a window is surprising, but familiar too.

He's suddenly brought back to himself by the absolute silence in the room. Angel seems to have finally given in and passed out. He's still and quiet and sleeping like the dead.

In fact… Jack takes in the pallor of his face, the stillness of his body, and fumbles hastily for a pulse… He _is_ dead.

Jack scrambles onto the bed beside Angel's limp body, leans over and _kisses_ him, hands cupping his face, pouring life and warmth into the cold, still form beneath him. Angel hasn't been gone long; it ought to be possible. And the world needs people who fight the bad guys.

* * *

Angel wakes to the feel of someone kissing him. It's unfamiliar enough after fifty-odd years without human contact to completely freak him out. He gasps and jerks fully awake in a second, automatically trying to sit up, but his own weakness, combined with Jack's weight on top of him, means he doesn't get very far. He flops back feebly, raises a shaking hand to rub his eyes, and finally manages to prise them open.

He's on his own bed and Jack is sitting next to him, leaning over him, one arm braced against the mattress on Angel's other side.

Angel peers up at the handsome face. "Were you kissing me?" And damn, he shouldn't sound so incredulous.

Jack flashes him a crooked grin, vividly blue eyes twinkling. "Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

"No, I just… It's been a while."

Jack's dark eyebrows shoot up. "Really? Someone as pretty as you? That's a real shame."

"I've been. Kinda avoiding people." Shit. He really doesn't feel very well.

"Really?" Jack glances briefly round at the room and then looks back at his face. "Yet you don't seem to have been spending much time here, either. What do you do with yourself?"

 _Mope. Brood. Feel lonely._ "I listen to the radio," Angel offers defensively.

"And fight aliens."

"Not aliens; demons." Angel does a double take. "There are aliens?"

Jack expressive eyebrows shoot upwards again. "There are demons?"

They stare at each other.

Then Jack breaks away: pushes off the bed and goes to pick up the spike off the coffee-table. "Any idea what kind of demons – or aliens – they were?" he asks, proffering the barb to Angel to examine.

Angel struggles again to sit up, and this time manages to achieve something that at least isn't completely flat on his back. Jack considerately pushes an extra pillow in behind him. "Thanks," Angel says, voice sounding weak and strained. He draws in a deep breath and takes the spike, turning it over between his fingers, frowning.

"Anything?" Jack asks, watching him.

"I didn't recognise them." Angel frowns, sniffing at the barb.

Next moment, he's flailing, head swimming, gasping as pain floods his lungs and shoots down his limbs. He cracks his head on the headboard and cries out. He doesn't know where he is, who he is, _what_ he is. Only that everything hurts.

He comes to again with a strong arm around his shoulders, a solid body beside him, and warm breath on the side of his face. He automatically tries to struggle away again.

"Whoa, there!" Jack half-laughs, half-scolds, other arm pressing across Angel's chest to hold him down. "Stay still. Thought you were a goner there, for a moment!"

"Must be poison," Angel mumbles, still pushing against him. "Don't sniff the – the – "

"Wasn't planning to," Jack says firmly. "Now _lie down_."

Jack's strong arm presses steadily on his chest, and Angel finally gives in and slumps down, vaguely watching Jack as he eases his arm out and shifts to sit on the side of the bed again, facing him. He studies Angel's face with a frown. One large, warm hand rests on Angel's chest; the other, Angel realises belatedly, is on his wrist, feeling for a pulse. Angel makes an odd, rasping sound that might be a laugh and looks up with a slight challenge in his eyes to meet Jack's as they fix on his face.

Jack raises his eyebrows, cool, definitely interested and possibly a little amused. "Want to tell me what you are?"

Angel hesitates. He's never been one for confiding his secrets – except when he was young, and human, and drunk, and that was a _long_ time ago – and he's shut himself away from humanity for so long, kept himself separate, apart, alone, that the idea of confiding in someone like this is just… alien.

When he doesn't answer, Jack's gaze becomes cold. Angel can _feel_ the coiled strength in the man. He wonders fleetingly if Jack is actually human either, but the thought gets blown away when Jack leans down over him, a smile on his face but something hard and uncompromising behind his eyes. "You're not human," Jack murmurs, eyes moving over Angel's face and upper body. Angel can feel his breath warm on his bare skin. "You're alive, but you have no pulse. _What are you_?"

It's a long time since Angel's cared enough to feel afraid. He's not actually afraid now, because Jack's brought him home and looked after him and is hardly about to threaten to _hurt_ him. But prickles of unease cross his skin at the man's intensity of purpose. Jack's not going to give up easily.

Angel licks his dry lips, and closes his eyes briefly, then looks up at Jack. "Vampire," he says weakly.

Jack backs off abruptly, sitting up straight, blinking. Then his tips his head back, apparently studying the ceiling, before looking back at Angel. "Vampire?" he asks, chin slightly raised, not looking entirely convinced.

"Yeah." Angel can't be bothered to elaborate, or try to convince.

Eventually, Jack nods, slowly. "Okay. Makes sense. You're cold, you have no pulse, you don't need to breathe. You're strong too. I saw you fight, after all."

"You too," Angel says, faintly curious, and Jack flashes him a sideways grin.

"Oh, but I'm not dead. I'm very alive. More alive than you could possibly imagine."

It's Angel's turn to look sceptical. "How can you be more alive than just alive?" His voice is still frustratingly feeble, like his body, but at least that isn't giving him away so much.

Jack's grin widens. "Long story, and one I'm not going to go into now." He sobers abruptly, glancing at the barb still lying on the bedclothes on Angel's other side. "I don't know how to counteract the poison. I don't know how to heal you."

Angel shrugs. "I don't think it's going to kill me. I'm strong, and poison doesn't, as a rule, kill vampires." Not that he'd care that much if it did.

He doesn't list the things that _do_ kill vampires: he's not going to give away that sort of information, no matter how caring Jack appears to be or how much he instinctively wants to trust Jack. 

Jack frowns. "Just hurt you, weaken you. Anything I can do to help with that?"

Angel looks up at him in shock. Jack must know what he's offering. He's talking to a vampire, asking what he can do to help. Angel wets his lips again, opens his mouth and shuts it again. And just… gapes.

Jack's expression softens. "I'm going to put this as clearly as I can," he says, and though his voice is gentle, it's obstinate too. He looks at Angel candidly.

"Do you want to drink my blood?"

* * *

The expression on Angel's face almost makes Jack laugh out loud. He couldn't possibly look more shocked if Jack had offered to don a pink tutu and dance for him. Jack schools his features and tries to look willing.

To be perfectly honest, he _is_ willing. He's died enough times to get thoroughly bored with it but he's never been drained by a vampire. And the idea is, if he admits it, definitely arousing.

When Angel just continues to stare at him in disbelief, Jack chuckles and stands up. He takes off his greatcoat and hangs it neatly over the back of a chair, then undoes his cuffs, pockets the cuff-links, and rolls his shirtsleeves up. Very deliberately, he thumbs open the first few buttons of his shirt and peels the collar back from his throat. He climbs back onto the bed, straddles Angel and leans down low over him, head stretched to one side to expose his neck. "I bet it would help," he offers persuasively, eyes very bright on Angel's face.

Angel licks his lips again, and this time it's not a gesture of trepidation; it's _hungry_. He's breathing again, chest moving fast and shallow beneath Jack's palm, and Jack grins, all teeth, and brings his neck even closer to Angel's mouth. "Come on," he says, low and inviting. "You know you want to."

There's a sudden whooshing, crunching noise that sounds somehow like bones shifting, and Jack rears backwards in time to see Angel's features morph into something that looks a _lot_ more like a vampire. Prominent ridged forehead, flashing golden eyes, long sharp teeth. It's frightening, that close up, and Jack laughs exultantly as adrenalin surges through him. His thighs tighten round Angel's torso and he leans down again, bared throat close to those fangs, and whispers in Angel's ear, "Do it."

Angel snarls, and Jack's glad he's too close to really get the full view of all those teeth. The next moment, Angel's hands are on him, one round his shoulders to hold him close, the other closing in his hair to wrench his head to the side. Jack goes with it, lets himself be controlled; bites his lip and closes his eyes, waiting for the feel of teeth in his neck.

When it comes, his eyes fly open again and he screams – in shock, in pain, in elation – surging up against the powerful arm holding him down. The arm tightens and forces him close again, and he slumps down, the urge to fight reducing now that the first bite is over and the teeth are in. He feels Angel start to suck, a frighteningly powerful pull on his veins, sucking his blood out of him. He can hear Angel slurping, swallowing, drinking him down. It's revolting, and incredibly arousing. His heart is pounding and his cock is hard and heavy in his jeans.

Angel's cock is interested too. Jack can feel it stirring against his crotch.

Being Jack, he's not just going to let that lie there. Literally and figuratively. "Want to do something more than just suck my blood?" he gasps, speech unexpectedly difficult with fangs impaled in the side of his neck.

The sucking stops abruptly and Angel goes very still and quiet beneath him. After a moment, the teeth withdraw carefully from his throat and he feels a tongue press gently against the wounds, stemming the blood. Jack waits till the tongue withdraws too, then presses his own fingers over the wound and carefully pulls back so he can see Angel's face.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" he asks ironically.

Angel's not looking at him. He's gazing off into somewhere else, features shifted back to human. He looks lost, and very pretty. Jack leans down again and kisses him gently, then leans back to meet the soulful eyes as they fly back to his face, surprised and… needy. Jack smiles gently, and moves in for another, longer kiss, one that's eventually reciprocated. Angel's lips are cool and taste of blood. It's not something Jack minds; he's no stranger to amorous biting. He kisses until Angel's mouth opens beneath his, then slides his tongue in, swirling it about and twining it with Angel's.

Angel gradually starts to give more and more, until finally Jack's satisfied he's got Angel's attention in the way he wants it. He pulls back briefly, long enough to take his fingers away from his neck and make sure he's not bleeding profusely; goes to wipe his fingers on Angel's torn shirt then realises what a waste that would be and presses them into Angel's mouth instead. Angel's eyes slam open, staring up at him, and Jack grins – a grin that turns to a gasp as Angel's tongue twists around his fingers, licking off the blood. Jack can't help but imagine that tongue on his cock, and he shifts against Angel as the thought makes him even harder and very uncomfortable within the constrictions of his jeans.

When Angel finally lets his fingers slip from his mouth, Jack gives him a quick grin and climbs off the bed. He keeps his eyes on Angel's as he deftly flips his braces down, unbuttons his shirt and strips it off, followed by the undershirt. He perches on the edge of the bed to remove his boots and socks, then finally unbuckles his belt, undoes his jeans and gets rid of them and his underwear in one go, remembering to retrieve the small tube from his pocket before he lets them drop completely. Then, finally naked, he walks round to the end of the bed and sets about unfastening Angel's pants and easing them off, along with the shorts beneath. He stands there a long moment, gazing down at the body revealed, before climbing on top of it again. Much more deliberate, this time, cock scraping against Angel's in a manoeuvre that makes them both groan.

"So you're with me, then?" Jack asks with a smug grin, because Angel still hasn't actually said anything, and Angel gazes up at him again with those soulful eyes that look completely surprised. Jack's seen that look before – Angel's not the first to be surprised at how much attention Jack's paying him, how _focussed_ Jack is during sex. Angel manages a nod, though, as his hands come up to press on Jack's shoulder-blades, drawing him down for another kiss.

Jack gives in to him briefly, but his need is too great to spend long just kissing. He slips out of the kiss and kneels up, flipping open the tube in his hand and slicking up his fingers, keeping his eyes still on Angel's face. Angel's eyes widen again as he works out where those fingers are going – to Jack's own ass – and Jack wonders again how someone as attractive as Angel could be so doubting about his own appeal, so astounded that someone would like to get fucked by him.

Being Jack, he asks.

"What is it?" he says breathlessly, as he works his fingers. "Why are you so alone? It's not just because you're a vampire, is it? There must be other vampires out there."

It takes a moment for Angel to answer. "I'm different than the others," he gets out, eventually. His large hands are curled around Jack's thighs; they clench and unclench convulsively. "I don't kill people."

"I'd sort of got that impression with the fighting demons," Jack says mildly, wincing at the tight grip on his thighs, and working hard on his ass because he really wants to get fucked, _now_. "I wouldn't be here now if I thought you killed people."

Angel's eyes are huge now, dark and inward-looking. "I haven't fed off a living human for nearly fifty years."

Jack's lips shape a silent _Wow_ as he slips his fingers out of his ass. "How old _are_ you?"

"Two hundred and twenty-five."

Jack's nowhere near prepared for that answer. He turns his head slightly, looking down at Angel with a small smile. "Not used to meet people who're older than I am."

Angel looks confused. "What?"

Jack's smile grows and he leans down over Angel to whisper confidingly, "I can't die."

Angel looks even more confused, thought that may be partly because Jack's being rather distracting. He's lubed up his fingers again and they're now behind his back, closed around Angel's cock, slicking it thoroughly.

Jack sits up again, his grin seductive and thoroughly evil. "Want to completely drain someone? Drink my blood till I die?"

Angel's whimpering and bucking beneath him now, fingers digging into the backs of Jack's thighs, staring at him with agonised eyes. "I can't," he whispers.

"Why? I'll come back again. I promise."

"I can't. If I do, I'll want more."

That, Jack can understand. "All right, then," he says seriously. "Just take a bit. Take as much as you need to heal yourself, and leave me the rest. Though to be honest I'd heal quicker if you just kill me."

"Really?" Angel sounds surprised, and thoughtful.

"Yeah. Kill me, and I come back whole. Don't kill me, and I take as long as a normal person to heal."

Angel's face contorts as he struggles with the decision. At last, he licks his lips and looks back at Jack's face. "All right."

Jack breaks out into a grin. "Fantastic. Let's get this show on the road!" He's very determinedly not thinking about whether it'll hurt, and about the fact he's offering to die, willingly, for the first time since he discovered he'd always come back. He's thinking, instead, about the thrill of being bitten, being drained, having the life sucked out of him in a far more literal way than ever before. About how it'll be so much more than just sex, so close a joining, so intimate a connection. His fingers steady Angel's cock behind him as he rises up onto his knees and carefully positions himself.

He watches Angel's face as he slowly pushes downwards, breath almost held until he finally feels himself give and he's able to slide down smoothly onto Angel's cock. The intimacy of their shared gaze is intense. Angel's mouth hangs open, gasping for air Jack knows he doesn't need, eyes wide and shocked. Jack's gasping for air himself. Angel's cock isn't small and it's a little bit of a challenge – but that's something Jack's always up for. He takes it in slowly, taking his time, gradually lowering himself until finally he's sitting on Angel, filled to the brim. It's an incredible sensation, not just physical but mental as well. Taking, and being _taken_.

Once he's… well, not comfortable, but as near as he's going to get, Jack bends forwards again, smiling. "Ready?" he asks Angel. It's a little odd – he feels Angel really ought to be the one asking that question – but Angel looks far more hesitant than Jack feels.

Angel nods, though, and this time Jack's able to watch as the face below him morphs into that of the vampire. The sight makes his pulse race, makes his breath come quicker, makes his cock fill even harder and his ass clench around Angel's. Angel groans, and Jack gives a quick grin and then stretches his neck out invitingly once more.

As before, he's grabbed and held in place for the fangs, which is utterly thrilling and definitely arousing. He tightens his muscles around Angel's cock, because he can't move much without risking getting his throat torn completely open, which would certainly give Angel all the blood he wants but would make Jack miss out on all the fun.

Angel growls, and grips him tighter, and the air's squeezed out of his lungs by the strength of the vampire's muscles. Jack struggles instinctively and the grip eases slightly, but doesn't let go. He doesn't want it to. This is what he wants: being held, being needed, hell, even being _used_ , because it's better than being alone. Oh yes, he gets where Angel's coming from far better than Angel could know.

The sensation of his blood being sucked out of him is even more intense now he's got that large, cool cock inside him too. Now that the arm across his shoulders is caressing naked flesh and the skin between his thighs is bare too. So much contact, so much to feel, so much everything. Jack clutches at Angel's shoulder with one hand and brings the other round to fist his own cock as he clamps down around Angel's, because he's not sure how long he's got left to enjoy this and he'll be damned if he's not going to get an orgasm out of it before he dies.

When he comes, it's almost more than he can bear. Somehow the sensation of his blood being dragged from his veins and the light-headedness caused by blood-loss combine with the sex to make his climax pretty damn mind-blowing. The rush of pleasure through his body is almost painful, it's so extreme and he howls, hand moving desperately on his cock, mind blanking, body instinctively trying to buck but held in place by Angel's hands and teeth.

He's only vaguely aware of Angel's climax following on the heels of his own. He's gone limp, strength evaporated along with the pleasure so that now there's only the dull drag of blood vanishing from his veins, the laboured thud of his heart trying to keep up with it, a slow darkness sliding across his brain. It's not long before he's gone completely.

* * *

Angel laps at the last few drops of blood oozing from the limp body on top of him, then eases his softening cock out of Jack's ass. He's clinging to his self-possession by a thread. He's been so long alone and the gift that Jack has given him – healing him not just with his blood but his body as well – is threatening to overwhelm him completely. He cradles Jack's body, strokes his hair, nuzzles at his neck, and hopes the man really did mean what he said about not being able to die.

There's a jolt and a gasp and suddenly Jack's back. Unfocussed and confused for a moment, then he slowly lifts his head and grins down at Angel. "Fuck," he says eloquently. "That was something!"

Angel smiles slowly, relieved and grateful and with no idea how to handle it. "Yeah. Something."

Something. Something to take away the loneliness of immortality, something to share, with someone who understands.

Angel watches as Jack wanders off to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean them both up – a man as thoroughly alive as Angel is thoroughly dead, but willing to give away some of that life. Jack's given him more than just his blood tonight; more than just his body. Angel stretches, the pain of the poison gone and his body warm and sated, feeling more alive than he has for decades. Jack's reminded him what it feels like to actually connect with another person.

Jack's reminded him that even someone who's technically dead can learn to live.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, there is a DVD-style commentary for this fic [here](https://unfeatheredfics.livejournal.com/3088.html) and some further musings from me re-reading the fic 12 years on [here](https://unfeathered.dreamwidth.org/352947.html)


End file.
